Friday, January 05, 2007

Fretting on Friday

So I woke up the wrong side of the bed today. The old familiar feeling of gloom and doom is all pervading. I was even picking fault with my nasi lemak this morning. Being a woman gives me the right to blame it on my hormones. It also gives me the right of blaming my boyfriend for the woes of my sad existence. Neat.

Hard to believe I know, but I have been a loner most of my life with a tiny bastion of good friends. I never thought I would hook up with a bloke with an even tinier bastion of good friends. We understand full well the happiness of solitude. Being a lonely island among men has it privileges, such as NOT being constantly invited to 'catch up' only to face a sales pitch on insurance or network marketing. I hate that ruse, don't you?

Nevertheless somewhere along the line I warmed up to the idea of not dying alone. Fancy that.

So while I am trying to break free from my social lethargy, the Significant Other is happy as he is. So I tell him that I want to see other people. Hm, that doesn't sound quite right, but you get my point. Of course what I meant was, I want HIM to share my goal too. You can just sense the disaster looming here, can't you?

My mature 30 year old mind tells that couples don't need to do EVERYTHING together. So when he politely declines to accompany me on family trips and social soirees, I call him an anti-social prat and sulk for days.

After the rage evaporates (for it to erupt another time, naturally) and apologies grudgingly made, clinical analysis of the situation reveals that I am a victim of my upbringing more that I thought.

Oh I don't know. Maybe it's my nesting instincts kicking in. Maybe it's my disillusion of living in KL. Maybe it's finding nobody to invite for my future wedding dinner. Gawd knows.

Running the risk of getting all misty eyed on nostalgia, I nurture rose-tinted recollections of a small town lifestyle where the pace is far from frantic and people still know their neighbours' kids by name.

When I grow old I want to be like one of those uncles and aunties who breakfast with their posse after their line dancing or morning jogs. Not that I am a fan of stepping in tune to Deep in The Heart of Texas everyday at dawn, mind you. Be it tennis, tai chi whatever - it's the
conviviality and gossip that is so charming. Now that I think of it, the senior citizen social scene in my hometown is far more happening than the Boy Scouts.

I never knew my parents to be social butterflies. (Can't blame them seeing that they were raising two semi-Goth wannabes.) So much so, that when retirement rolled by and we kids flew the coop, the parents found themselves a little bored and hence took to fighting each other for variety. My mom at least is trying to resuscitate her social circle and moving to a new neighbourhood has helped. Call me fuddy-duddy but I find old ladies laughing and gossiping - oh so cute!

Being self-centred, naturally I wonder how my life will be in 30-40 years. I should hate to spend my golden years confined to the TV room watching Desperate Housewife reruns with my 14 cats. I sure hope the coffee shops and public parks will still survive. I am not willing to give them up yet. Perhaps the kopi-o would be replaced by the skinny latte. Line-dancing may have to make way for morning salsa. Fine.
Que sera sera.

At the very least, I just hope that when I ease into my delicate 60s, I will still have equally minded bosom buddies to be cute with.

2 comments:

trix your bwadah said...

semi goth? i was full bloomed man, by tpg standards at least. look at us now...blardy sellouts! moola is the shiznit!

Monster said...

Full Bloomed Man, syeah right! With Marilyn Manson's poster in sami's room? What is that if not a tak-jadi-goth? But yeah, sold my soul to the highest bidder.